Legendary, Or Something Like It
by Gigabomb
Summary: Sannin drabbles. All based on requests or challenges.
1. Once Upon a Time in Konoha

Challenge: Urban Legends, with irony, the sannin, lack of swearwords in a creative way, and glasses.

Naruto didn't know why, but whenever Jiraiya ever promised him a training exercise, they always seemed to end up in a bar. There was never much training done either. Just Jiraiya talking, usually after he'd thrown back a couple glasses of sake. Today, the topic seemed to be the glory days. "You should've seen me, brat. That mission was the one where they started calling us the sannin, but it was really all me. There I was, the Sun princess huddled at my feet, Cloud-nin on all sides of us and Tsunade and Orochimaru no where in sight. Of course, it would've been easy to kill them all on a normal assignment, as great as I am, but it was my duty to protect the princess at any cost, so when the Cloud-nin rushed us, I grabbed her around the waist and jumped up into the air. It was then that I knew it was time to use the ultra-special technique I'd just developed."

Jiraiya languidly poured himself another glass, Naruto waiting impatiently. Most of the time, the blond genin didn't pay much attention to his teacher's bragging, but he'd always had a bit of a soft spot for tales of valor and rescuing maidens, if only because it was nice to know that things would always turn out alright in the end. "Hurry up, Ero-sennin! What'd you do?"

Jiraiya grinned; there was very little he loved more than a captive audience. "It was a rather brilliant variation on an Earth jutsu I'd learned recently. Before any of the Cloud-nin could jump off the ground to follow me, they'd all been sucked in by my technique. By the time I'd landed, there weren't any enemies left to fight. The princess wanted to marry me, of course, seeing as I'd saved her from certain death and I was a dashing and handsome young man; almost as good looking as I am now! But of course, I refused, seeing as the rescue had been my duty as a shinobi and I just couldn't in good conscience take advantage of such a beautiful young woman."

Naruto rolled his eyes. "You're making that up. If she was really as pretty as you're making her out to be, you'd have married her in a second."

Jiraiya shook his head sadly. "Naruto, Naruto. You make your inexperience all too obvious. If the same offer was made to me now, of course I would accept. But back then I couldn't pin myself down to one woman, no matter how beautiful she was. Young men need their freedom. You will learn that someday, when some sweet young thing approaches you-"

"Jiraiya." Both Naruto and his teacher turned to see the Godaime leaning against a nearby wall. Jiraiya's eyes widened. "I can't believe what's coming out of your mouth. That was the biggest pile of-"

"Tsunade!" The toad sannin attempted to jump to his feet, but had to steady himself as the alcohol began to take effect. "Mind your language; there are children present."

The Fifth Hokage sighed. "Jiraiya, it's kind of pathetic that you're inventing lies just to impress your new apprentice."

Naruto's face fell. "You mean none of the story ever happened?"

"Oh, most of it's true enough. Jiraiya, let us say, has just _twisted_ one or two details. I'll set it straight for you. Here's how the mission really came about..."

Elsewhere...

Snake sannin and medic-nin alike stared at the enormous pile of wealth stacked at the entrance to their headquarters. After a moment, Orochimaru spoke. "Kabuto, the location of Otogakure is a complete mystery to the entirety of the shinobi world. Can you please tell me how she still manages to find out my address no matter where I move?"

Kabuto adjusted his glasses and leaned forward to more thoroughly examine a rather elaborate container filled to the brim with chocolate covered figs. "Personal team of tracker-nins, perhaps?"

"You'd think after thirty years she'd start to realize that I'm never going to accept her proposal."

"Well, you did rescue her from certain death, Orochimaru-sama. Women tend to be overly sentimental and persistent about that sort of thing. And it isn't that terrible an offer. Becoming the consort to the Empress of the Sun Country would come with all sorts of benefits. Servants, riches, unrestricted access to the royal library..."

"Perhaps I should send you in my place to marry her, Kabuto."

Kabuto shuddered. "She's old enough to be my mother, Orochimaru-sama."

Orochimaru smirked and to address the regiment of ornamented guards who had delivered the Empress's gifts. "Bring it all back. And please tell her the answer is still no."

The guards bowed and began to load the plethora of jewels, rare books, fine wines, gold, and exotic food back onto the carriages. Kabuto watched sadly as the chocolate covered figs were carted away. "We could have at least kept some of it this time around, Orochimaru-sama."

"Perhaps when hell freezes over, Kabuto."


	2. Wishing to be Somewhere Else

Challenge: Switched

Naruto didn't understand why the Ero-sennin thought the creepy pale guy would be such a great Hokage. When Jiraiya had spoken about his old teammate, who had mastered almost as many jutsus as the Sandaime, Naruto had pictured someone... taller. And less girly. In other words, more like a legend.

Of course, being a legend wasn't much of a guarantee of anything. Naruto just had to look at his new teacher, the toad sennin, sensei to the Fourth Hokage, one of the most well-known pornographic writers alive and second generation pervert, to know being a legend wasn't all it was chalked up to be. Still...

"You told me yourself that you would be a far better Yondaime than my student, Orochimaru. Now you have the chance to prove it."

Ero-sennin was really going about it all wrong. From the way he and the new guy were glaring at each other, Naruto would have pinned them as arch-enemies, not former comrades. The unveiled hostility in Jiraiya's voice didn't improve the already tense situation. By the way the snake sannin curl his lip, he seemed to agree.

"Tsunade's offer was far more lucrative, Jiraiya. All you can provide me with is a pathetic challenge I didn't think was worth my time ten years ago. She, on the other hand, is willing to give me what I've always wanted. Who do you think I'm more willing to cooperate with?"

"She killed Sarutobi-sensei, Orochimaru. Doesn't that mean anything to you?"

Orochimaru snorted. Sitting on the snake sannin's left, Kabuto quietly poured more sake into his mentor's empty glass, which the black-haired shinobi blatantly ignored.

"If she hadn't finished him off, I would have done it myself. It was our beloved former teacher, after all, who stopped my research."

It was becoming far too apparent, even to Naruto, that the Ero-sennin was losing his temper. When the sake glass shattered in the white-haired man's grip, Naruto tried to intervene.

"How can you refuse the position of Hokage? It is the ultimate honor of Konoha! Don't you-"

"Taking up the Hokage's mantle has a 100 mortality rate. The last thing I'm willing to do for that village is die." Orochimaru raised one ironic eyebrow in Naruto's position. "Why the interest, boy?"

"Someone needs to hold the position for me until I get old enough."

From Orochimaru's answering laugh, Naruto garnered that the snake sannin's answer was still a No.

At his former comrade's response, Jiraiya gave an angry hiss and said in a tight, controlled voice, "Naruto, leave."

The genin shot his teacher an incredulous stare. "What?"

Jiraiya tossed Naruto a few coins. "Leave. Go get some ramen or something. We're going to be negotiating for a while, and your fidgeting will just be a distraction."

Grumbling under his breath despite the promise of ramen, Naruto slunk out of the bar and out the door. After his student's departure, Jiraiya visibly tried to pull himself back into a semblence of control, letting out a loud sigh and forcing himself to let go of the remains of his sake glass. "The council is willing to... compromise on the terms of your return to Konoha."

Orochimaru raised one eyebrow. "Really?"

"While the Sandaime had problems with the concept of human experimentation, not everyone has such stringent morals. As we acquired a number of Sound and Sand prisoners during the recent invasion, the council is willing to supply you with a laboratory and test subjects upon your return, to resume your immortality research."

At Jiraiya's words, the snake sannin actually snorted. "Immortality experimentation is illegal in Konohagakure. I can't believe the council would be that desperate for a Godaime to relax their policies so dramatically."

"Well considering the alternative is to let a pornography writer lead Konoha and have you ally with Tsunade in a declaration of war against the Leaf, their options are limited."

In the middle of taking another sip of sake, Orochimaru choked on the drink and started coughing. After several minutes of this, the pale shinobi finally recovered enough to say, "You mean to tell me that you were their first choice?"

Jiraiya shrugged, not looking particularly offended. "I told you their options were limited."


	3. Typical

Challenge: A scene between Sarutobi and Orochimaru.

Orochimaru."

The boy didn't look up from his book. Shaking his head fondly at this expected response, the third Hokage reached down and plucked 'The Origins of the Great Fireball' out of his student's hands. It was only then that Sarutobi managed to get the pale genin's attention as Orochimaru scowled and pushed himself to his feet.

"Sarutobi-sensei, I was reading that."

The Sandaime nodded gravely. "Yes, you were. And if you didn't notice the time, my rather tardy pupil, you are already half an hour late for training. And as you know-"

Orochimaru's scowl deepened. "Every minute wasted could mean a life. I don't care about the extra laps. I just don't want to train with that Jiraiya idiot."

The third Hokage sighed. "What is it this time?"

The scowl remained, but by the way Orochimaru glanced down at the ground, Sarutobi could sense his student's embarrassment. "He made fun of my hair again."

Ah. The hair. Jiraiya's immaturity showing through. Not, the Sandaime reflected, that the white-haired genin could possibly know Orochimaru's reasons for keeping it long, but Sarutobi was beginning to grow weary of Jiraiya's childishness. "And?"

"So I hit him."

And then there was Orochimaru. "That would explain his taped nose this morning."

The dark-haired boy stared defiantly into his teacher's eyes. "I'm not going to train with him."

"You don't have to today. But you are going to train. Your body-"

"-must be as disiplined as your mind. I know."

Orochimaru, the Sandaime reflected, had really had been his student far too long if he had already memorized every single one of his platitudes. Still, he couldn't let a child get too cocky, even if said child was really too precocious for his own good. "If you know so well, please begin on those laps. I believe fifty around the Tower will do for a warm up."

Even if the scowl didn't completely disappear, it at least faded after the boy realized his teacher wasn't going to force him to train with Jiraiya. "What about my book?"

"You can get it back after training."

After a considering glance that was far too calculating for such a young child, Orochimaru nodded. "Alright, Sarutobi-sensei."

As his most prized student began on his warm up run, the Sandaime sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. Brilliant shinobi or no, that boy was going to be the death of him someday.


	4. Contagious

Challenge: Jiraiya/Orochimaru young fic. However you like, but with this quote: Visi, veneri, vamoose -I visited, I caught an embarrassing disease, I ran away

Jiraiya, Orochimaru had always noted, possessed the annoying tendency to do impulsive, stupid things without thinking them through first. This personality trait made itself particularly apparent during one of their numerous arguments, which happened to be over Jiraiya's irritating hobby of peeping on women in the baths. Normally, Orochimaru couldn't have cared less, but when the white-haired boy showed up to their scheduled sparring session an hour late, soaking wet but grinning like Christmas had come early, Orochimaru finally had to ask, if only to get some compensation for the taller boy wasting an hour of his life.

"It's funny, Jiraiya. You always brag on your numerous exploits with women, but the closest I've ever seen you to a girl is that one time Tsunade tried to choke you to death. Do you actually have any idea how to kiss, or have you just been blowing smoke, like how you do about absolutely everything else?"

Jiraiya had quite predictably bristled. He also quite predictably snarled, "I'm a great kisser!" The white-haired chuunin had then, not so predictably, continued with, "And I can prove it!" Jiraiya then concluded his argument by grabbing Orochimaru by the hair and quite roughly pushing their lips together.

Though Orochimaru had exactly zero experience with kissing (admittedly, unlike Jiraiya), he could tell his comrade was inexperienced, despite all his bluster. If Jiraiya had made out with as many people as his stories had suggested, there was no way their noses would have bumped together so painfully, and Orochimaru was fairly sure he should have been able to breathe. But even so... when Jiraiya finally pushed them apart, Orochimaru's face felt hot, and he was mortified to realize he was blushing. Worse, Jiraiya noticed.

"See! Even you think I'm a good kisser!" The taller shinobi grinned triumphantly, for all he was blushing too.

Both of them took care to never mention the incident, and they avoided looking at each other the next day at training. Personally, Orochimaru tried to forget about it, but two weeks later, the unexpected happened. Jiraiya had sought Orochimaru out, and had asked, with that now familiar blush reddening his cheeks, if Orochimaru wanted Jiraiya to prove again what a good kisser he was. It was a conventional pick-up line with the delivery ruined by an uncharacteristic stammer, but Orochimaru was startled to realize he was tempted. But good sense soon took over, and Orochimaru turned back to his book with a derisive snort. "Whatever strange disease you've caught that's making you act like more of an idiot than usual, Jiraiya, I don't want it spreading to me."

Jiraiya's face darkened, but this time in humiliation. He turned and ran. Orochimaru watched him go, his book, for the moment, forgotten.

Orochimaru had always been uncomfortably aware of himself. Whatever he told other people, he always took care to never practice self-deception. If whatever had Jiraiya acting oddly was a disease, he had been contagious weeks ago. But Orochimaru could never let him know. Some ailments were too embarrassing to talk about.


	5. Backseat Driving

Challenge: Something from Orochimaru's point of view when he is actually having a nice quiet good day.

"You're cutting too close to that artery."

Sasori rolled his eyes. Only Orochimaru could make human experimentation a spectator sport. "No, I'm not." His left hand made a quick incision. No blood spurted. Despite himself, the former Sand-nin couldn't help but send a smirk his partner's way. Orochimaru didn't look impressed.

"Taking chances with such a valuable specimen is the mark of an amateur, Sasori. If you're going to add special modifications, you should practice first on someone expandable."

Sasori didn't even bother looking up as he started peeling away the skin covering the ribcage. "Risk makes for progress, Orochimaru."

"_Foolish_ risks are shortsighted. Cut any closer to his heart and you're going to lose him. That would be a setback, Sasori. You know, setback? The opposite of progress?"

The puppeteer ran a finger thoughtfully over his subject's smaller intestine. "Growing cautious in your old age, Orochimaru?" His scalpel flashed. Both Akatsuki immediately leaned in to examine the wound, which after a moment started copiously leaking blood. Sasori swore. Orochimaru grinned.

"Growing careless in yours, Sasori? If you don't get that stitched up quickly, all that time and effort you put towards capturing that pesky Sandaime Kazekage will be completely wasted. We don't want that, now do we?"

Sasori's hands were already reaching for the thread. "Now is not the time, Orochimaru."

Orochimaru's smile widened. Though there was really nothing that made him happier than learning a new jutsu, winning an argument with Sasori placed a close second. "You're threading the needle wrong."

Already immersed up to his elbows in the Third Wind Shadow's stomach, Sasori still spared some time to comment on where the former Leaf-nin could cram his advice, but all Orochimaru did was laugh.


	6. Unwanted Reminders

Challenge: Battle scars

Even before he had switched bodies, Orochimaru had never possessed many scars. He wasn't careless, and unlike shinobi such as Jiraiya, he never threw himself into the thick of a battle, preferring instead to watch from the sidelines until an opportune moment arose. Still, there had been a few instances where he had slipped up, however rare. A thin line right above his left eyebrow where a kunai had just missed its mark. A star-shaped patch of scar tissue below his right knee where a Mist jounin with spiked sandals had attempted to break his leg. The remnants of a burn on the left side of his chest where Tsunade had melted off his chuunin vest with her chakra, trying to make skin contact in time to restart his heart before brain damage set in. After that, Orochimaru had made a point to never again underestimate the sheer killing power of the Cloud's lightning jutsus. One near-death experience was enough.

Once, Orochimaru had hated the sight, the feel, of his scars. It wasn't a concern for aesthetics- no matter what nonsense Jiraiya spouted, Orochimaru had never cared much about his looks- but the reminder the scars presented every time Orochimaru looked in a mirror. The reminder of slipping up where he should have succeeded. And there was nothing Orochimaru hated more than to be forced to reflect on the past.

Once, Orochimaru had hated his scars. That feeling paled in comparison to how he felt now, seeing the defects that covered his body, the marks on his leg and the nicks on his hands and the plethora of other white, almost invisible flaws that decorated his skin. These scars weren't his own. This body had a history, one his soul didn't share. This body was disfigured by mistakes he hadn't made. It made Orochimaru grind his teeth to think about it.

It was the Sharingan that first drew Orochimaru to Uchiha Sasuke, the unique ability to copy jutsus with one look. But it was the boy's body- his perfect, pale skin without even a sunburn to show for all the strain the Uchiha had put himself through- that made Orochimaru want him. Too young to have made any errors that would mark him for life. Too talented to not chafe under the restrictions Konoha placed on its warriors.

Orochimaru couldn't care less about Uchiha Sasuke, a boy driven by an ambition that gave him no benefit and would ultimately consume him. But the potential was impossible to ignore. And the chance for Orochimaru to remake himself, to be reborn in a body that didn't remember pain or failure, was far, far too tempting to pass up. No matter what it cost him in the end.


	7. That Wasn't How It Went

Challenge: Demons, use of Orochimaru

It was really only to be expected that after chasing Orochi for something longer than a human lifetime, Susano-o couldn't help but get a little attached. They had been enemies for so long that the line had blurred, and no matter how mortals tended to assign characteristics like 'good' and 'evil' to the immortals, the immortals themselves made little distinction. Living for an eternity tended towards a little fluctuation as far as morals were concerned.

Not that any human was aware of this. It was one of many things that had somehow ended up being omitted from the human records. Another was how the Susano-o and Orochi of them had become enemies to begin with, probably because no one wanted to think that a legendary feud could rise out of something as stupid as cheating at a card game. Even less people wanted to remember that Susano-o had done the cheating, and Orochi the one who had gotten pissed off and broken her sometime friend, sometime rival's nose, thereby starting the whole debacle. Immortals were slow to forgive, if only because they literally did have all the time in the world.

The thing that had ended it all had been misinterpreted (some say purposefully) by the humans too, which just showed how selectively blind the species was when you got right down to it. It actually had involved a great deal of sake, the humans had at least gotten that much right, but a sword had only been tangentially related to the issue, and then only as a topic of discussion and later as a way to make amends. Also, no matter what the human legends say, Susano-o ended up getting a great deal drunker than Orochi. And though the man acted like he had a stick up his ass ninety-nine percent of the time, the times he cheated at cards notwithstanding, it turned out that alcohol tended to make Susano-o very... friendly.

"You know..." and at this point the legendary hero slung an arm around his enemy's shoulders, sloshing sake in the process, "You're really, really, really..." he paused at this point before regaining his train of thought, "... hot. You know that?"

Orochi, who normally had personal space issues but had had enough to drink that she wasn't sure why, just raised an eyebrow. "Really?"

Susano-o grinned. "Yeah." He paused again, as if trying to draw a conclusion from this observation. "Since I'm not all that bad looking either, you want to go have sex or something?" He had wanted to ask this for something close to fifty years, but in this case, he found alcohol was something of a necessity. Susano-o just had too much common sense when sober to even bother considering propositioning someone who tried to kill him on a regular basis.

Orochi tried to think of a reason that this wasn't a good idea. All she could remember was something about cards, and that didn't relate enough to the issue at hand to register. "Sure. Got nothing better to do."

So they did. A few months later, Orochi started getting morning sickness, so Susano-o forged her a sword as an apology for getting her knocked up. And then other stuff happened and they both died, but no one ever found out what happened to their son.

----

"Hey, Orochimaru."

The pale-skinned, golden-eyed prodigy of the Sandaime Hokage looked up from his study of one of his teacher's scrolls with a scowl. "What is it now, Jiraiya?"

"You ever wonder who your parents were? Your real ones, I mean?"

Orochimaru looked at his teammate for a moment, considering. Then he turned back to his scroll. "No."


	8. Monstrous Talent

Author's Note: For gelfling8604

Around Konohagakure, the word Jiraiya heard most to describe Orochimaru was 'genius,' often when their team was passing by while going to report to the mission desk or on their way to eat. No one even bothered to be circumspect about it, retired shinobi speaking in the loud voices of the partially deaf about how nice it was to see that the new generation wasn't a complete waste of time. Or mothers stage-whispering about the potential of Sarutobi's protege as a provider, both for the village and his eventual family (that one always made Jiraiya want to laugh almost as much as it made him want to cry). Or active shinobi (and they were the worst), the veterans, usually, talking about how that though the Sandaime was young yet, he'd need a successor one day, and it was always good to plan for the future, especially with the war with Cloud and Mist that had no end in sight.

Orochimaru always pretended he didn't hear, his gaze not moving from the road, though Tsunade would giggle at some of the comments, though she snickered the loudest about the ones regarding marriage. They were only sixteen, after all, and somehow it was hard to imagine Orochimaru even dating, much less getting married. Jiraiya spent the time resisting the urge to glare and grinding his teeth. Ten years of being overlooked in favor of Orochimaru, who was boring and kind of creepy and spent most of his time reading academic journals, really grated on his nerves.

But the 'genius' comments weren't the worst. Those were only irritating, and Jiraiya had learned to live with them. It was those few times after missions, the bad ones, the assignments when they came back covered in blood and guts and various other bodily fluids, Jiraiya puking in the bushes and Tsunade washing her hands until they were rubbed raw and Orochimaru's eyes unreadable, that the comments on the street took a different turn. 'Not human' came up more than once, 'monster' as well. But 'demon...' that was their favorite.

Like with the whispers of 'genius' and 'most talented shinobi of his generation,' Orochimaru pretended not to hear, but Jiraiya saw the way his hands shook and his eyes darkened. Tsunade tried to rationalize it, saying people were scared by Orochimaru's lack of reaction, by how he could kill twenty shinobi in a night and not act any different than if he had spent the evening in the library. By how he fought as no one else could, defeated those thought near invincible and come back soaked in their remains. People feared what they didn't understand and what was beyond their control.

It didn't keep Jiraiya from wanting to hunt the whisperers down and beating them within an inch of their lives. He had even does so once, tracked down a particularly gossipy chuunin and breaking both his arms before issuing one or two choice death threats, but he hadn't felt better afterwards and the rumors hadn't stopped, so that was the last time he bothered.

He wondered how people could think that, that Orochimaru was a demon, something not human at all. What kind of demon could get a head cold from washing his hair in a glacier-melted stream and spend the rest of the day sneezing? What kind of demon would sulk for three days because a book he wanted had been bought by someone else? What demon would care what people said about him on the street?

Jiraiya knew with absolute certainty that Orochimaru was nothing close to a demon. Orochimaru was a genius, yes- even Jiraiya would admit that if pushed- but he was also nerd, and a teacher's pet, and... well... what were the chances of a demon being such a total wuss when it came to girls, anyway?


	9. Hot Tempered

Author's Note: Written for the naruto100 challenge 'heat.'

Jiraiya hated hot weather.

Normally he was ignored in such matters, but he knew that at this point his was the popular opinion. Orochimaru had gotten so badly burned during their trip across the plains of River Country that he was feverish, and just by the way the pale-skinned jounin moved Jiraiya could tell he was in pain. Tsunade might have been the exception, except things rotted much more quickly in the heat, and she was unable to keep the wound on their client's leg from festering. And of course the idiot wouldn't hear of having the limb amputated no matter how many times Tsunade told him it had to be removed before the infection spread, wouldn't stop saying over and over again how they were supposed to protect him from injuries like this and what was he paying them for and-

Never mind that they had only taken this mission, a B class assignment, because it happened to be on their way to meet a client who had a real job waiting for them. Never mind that their current client had failed to mention just who he had pissed off, and though an A class mission was well within their ability to complete, Jiraiya would have preferred it if they'd gotten some prior warning and the equivalent pay. They were well within their rights just to leave the guy here for keeping back intel, but Tsunade wouldn't hear of it and Orochimaru was too ill to back him up on this, as Jiraiya knew he would do if the other shinobi wasn't running a temperature of 104 degrees.

So there they were, seeking cover up a pathetic outcropping of trees, roasting for no reason Jiraiya could see, as Tsunade continued arguing with the man about his leg and the man screamed obscenities back and Orochimaru with his eyes covered with a wet washcloth and breathing shallowly through his mouth and there was sweat running down the back of Jiraiya's neck and making his hair stick uncomfortably and _why the hell were they her_e and-

Jiraiya couldn't help but get some satisfaction out of the way their client's face paled, the way the man didn't dare to blink with the point of Jiraiya's katana hovering less than a centimeter from his eyeball. "Listen jackass," Jiraiya said none too pleasantly, "Either you let Tsunade take off your leg or _I'll take if off for her_."

The surgery was completed in an hour. Even with the complete lack of decent equipment, their client would have probably survived, Tsunade being as good as she was, if their pursuers hadn't chosen then to make a second appearance. With Orochimaru down and out, only one of them was available to fight, and suddenly their client was no longer as important as he had been five minutes ago. Jiraiya slit his throat with little remorse before moving to go- better he die quickly while unconscious instead of screaming on an interrogation table- but the look Tsunade gave him as soon as they were clear made something within Jiraiya twitch, just a little. "What?"

"You didn't have to be like that, you know."

"Fuck off." He ignored the hurt in her eyes, ignored the way that his skin was beginning to burn as red as Orochimaru's, how there wasn't one article of clothing that didn't cling to him, ignored the fact that they were never going to get the second half of their payment now and that this entire detour had been nothing but a big pain in the ass, ignored how fucking _hot_ it was, and turned away.

God did he ever hate this weather.


	10. Remnants

Author's Note: Written due to a combination of my irritation at Chapter 346, rayemars' urging (sort of; it took her like four words to push me over the edge), and a drabble by metamorphe from which I heavily drew influence. Dealing with the possibility that Sasuke did not override his old teacher's consciousness quite as thoroughly as he believed at the time.

The dreams had started only a few days after the death of Itachi. Hands running over his skin, a low voice murmuring in his ear. The same dreams he had been having for almost three years, but not really the same dreams at all. The hands were too rough or too smooth, the voice the wrong timbre, roughened or slick like oil, and even in the poor lighting Sasuke could tell the hair was several shades paler than it should have been. Sometimes the moon glinted off the face, sometimes there were two faces, sometimes he actually raised his eyes above the curve of shoulders and saw nothing at all. But Sasuke learned to accept this. He had finally avenged his clan, achieved his ultimate objective. He was not a child anymore, with a child's fantasies of the impossible. Better to dream of the abstract. Better for his subconscious to have finally accepted what a whirl of chakra had long ago etched into his mind.

Sakura and Naruto had few questions for him after he sought them out while they were on a mission and told them he wanted to come back. He told them of the snake sannin's end, of Itachi's, and their curiosity was drowned in the face of their relief. They did not delve further into the strangeness of the former after hearing of the crushing violence of the latter. No one took note that his eyes remained cold no matter how his face contorted at the interrogations the Godaime forced him to undergo. _They think they can control me._

Naruto laughed as Sasuke walked out of Tsunade's office, a free man at last. Sakura smiled, her eyes glistening even as she turned away and tried to wipe them dry. Sasuke told himself that the flash of disgust was only to be expected, after becoming accustomed to the mien of the self-contained.

He and Naruto had their first argument within the week. Naruto growled and snarled and balled his hands into fists, and the first word that crossed Sasuke's mind was less _fool_ and more _beast_. He snarled back, of course. It was only to be expected. _They couldn't suspect-_

The yelling match continued for nearly an hour, and though the air of righteous anger surrounding Naruto as he stomped away in a huff was nearly palpable, it was a poor mask.

The disgust was stronger this time, and lasted longer. _What am I doing here?_

Sakura started courting him after a month. She thought she was being subtle, he could tell. She wasn't, and that irritated him, but he couldn't help but latch on to the normality of it, the sheer expected-ness of her actions. He didn't encourage her, but neither did he brush her off as he once might have. Her desires might have not changed, but he had. He was not a child anymore, and still had one more goal to achieve. _Such emotion is so easy to manipulate._

Naruto grumbled for a few days, yelled something about treating Sakura properly, took Sasuke aside and threatened to punch him or something equally juvenile. Sasuke stared at Naruto down the length of his nose, sneered, and resisted the urge to run his tongue along the back of Naruto's neck to see if the sweat Naruto had generated in his impotent fury tasted as sweet as Sasuke had always imagined.

He kissed Sakura at the end of their third date after walking her home. Sooner would have been improper. He fucked Naruto the same night, at Naruto's apartment, licking at Naruto's nape over and over and yes, it tasted just the slightest bit like sugar, mixed in with salt. The taste was familiar. _Though not as bitter. It's not quite as I remember. Not quite-_

Afterwards, Naruto had turned over, his muscles loose but his eyes sharp, _pleading_, "Don't hurt Sakura-chan."

"I won't," Sasuke promised.

"We can't do this again."

"Of course not," Sasuke agreed, ignoring the way the words, like everything he had said since he had returned--_they held me back, kept me from_--burned like venom in his mouth.

_Who are you, to dictate to me what I can and cannot do?_

It was not a question Sasuke was sure he could answer anymore.

**END**


	11. A Temporary Solution

Author's Note: I've gotten one or two reviews about this, so I thought I might clarify something. This ficlet was written before the chapter where we see Itachi and Orochimaru's final confrontation. In canon, Itachi cut off Orochimaru's left hand. Here, Orochimaru's right arm is lost. The coincidence is interesting, but coincidental is all it is. Even if I do think it's cool that it is so easily read as the aftermath of that incident.

Before Sasori, Orochimaru hadn't known there was anyone in the world who could actually force him to examine his own boundaries. Before Sasori, Orochimaru hadn't known he had any at all.

It was almost as disturbing as finding out that facing the prospect of living one of his childhood nightmares overrode so much of his distaste for what his partner had done to himself.

What had led to this moment was this: he had been careless. He had been careless and overconfident, and it had cost him dearly. Orochimaru still couldn't look at the stump where his right arm had been just hours ago without feeling nauseous. It was difficult to be objective about the situation when he couldn't forget even for a moment that he was the one sitting on their makeshift laboratory's examination table as Sasori, frowning, plucked clinically at a loose nerve end trailing out of what remained of his arm. It was painful, in a distant sort of way that meant he had probably lost more blood than he'd originally thought, but not nearly as much as the realization that a one-armed shinobi was effectively worth nothing. All but the simplest genjutsu and ninjutsu were beyond him now, his skill at taijutsu halved at best.

Which was the only reason he was considering this at all. Sasori had taught him the basics of puppetry as a courtesy during the second year of their partnership, and while Orochimaru had found it interesting in the same way he found all obscure shinobi disciplines, he hadn't actually thought he would ever be using it on a regular basis.

"You will get used to it."

Orochimaru narrowed his eyes at his partner and resisted the urge to hiss at the dead, empty thing grasped in the puppeteer's hands. "Do you even remember what it was like to have an organic body?"

Sasori shrugged, his face remaining stiff and expressionless. Of course. The former Sand-nin had to make an effort to appear more than superficially alive, and rarely bothered when it was just him and Orochimaru, as it was now. "Inefficient. Poorly designed." He held up the puppet arm for Orochimaru's inspection. "You are not completely untalented at my art. This will work better for you."

Orochimaru doubted it. Even if Sasori's skill at puppetry was such that Orochimaru could channel his chakra through his replacement arm, there would be no tactile sensation. Far removed from himself, less of an extension of self than a simple tool, however well-designed.

Still, better this than to remain a cripple. And it wouldn't—it _wouldn't_—be forever. Sasori might have been first in coming up with his own unique brand of immortality, but Orochimaru refused to believe that the only way to stave off death was to make yourself less than a corpse. He would find another way. But… he glanced again at the ruin of his arm. Until then...

"Fine. Do it."


End file.
